


Corsets in the dressing room

by siberianchan



Series: Sing for me [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Corset, I am very proud of myself, M/M, my birthday gift to my readers, unashamed smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 21:26:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11975343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siberianchan/pseuds/siberianchan
Summary: Yuuri's fighting with his damn, bloody corset and maybe an onset of nerves. At least with the latter Viktor gladly helps.Bonus for chapter 14 of the main story "Sing for me".





	Corsets in the dressing room

**Author's Note:**

> Heya, here we are! The long promised birthday smut, because some good has to come from this day and if it's not my peace of mind, it might as well be your entertainment. 
> 
> If you are new to this thing - this story is set in my Opera-/History-AU "Sing for me" where everyone is on stage and Viktor is extra as fuck, Mila and Sara are the happiest lesbians ever and poor Yakov needs a raise. If you haven't read it, I don't think it's neccessary to enjoy the smut, but if the smut is to your liking I'd really appreciate if you checked out both the story proper and my tumblr at siberianchan.tumblr.com (I mostly reblog, rant about feminism and fandom and squee about my cat)
> 
> This is an alternative version of the dressing room scene in chapter 14; I wrote it like this first (thanks to my dear beta. She never fails to inspire me.) but when the time came to put it in the chapter... it didn't feel right to have them boning before a performance, so out it went.  
> But smut is always worth sharing.
> 
> And without further ado - here we go.

With a soft _snap_ the planchet closed and Yuuri breathed out, grabbed the lacings of the corset and slung them over the door handle, looking over his shoulder into the mirror. God, he hated this thing already, he hated the cords and the fiddling with it and...

His fingers lost the cross that he was supposed to pull and he hissed in frustration, in the same moment as there was a knock at the door.

“Yes?” Quickly he removed the lacing from the handle as the door opened and Mila Babitch's flaming head peeked around the door.

“Ah, thought so.” She stepped in, wrapped in a dark green dressing gown, and looked at him, grinning. “Need help?”

He was a man, standing in his longjohns, an undershirt and a corset in the middle of his dressing room, and it was one of the most embarrassing moments of his life. “Yes. Please.”

“Thought so.” Mila laughed and came in, leaving the door leaned open, lest anyone suspected illicit things going on between the two up and rising young soloists. “You know, since you will be wearing this a lot on stage I think you should learn how to do it yourself.”

“I am trying! I mean look at that!” He turned his back to her so she could see the mess he had made of the lacings. Again.

Mila clucked her tongue. “You know what, you gonna meet me and Sara on Sunday. You get a lacing lesson, understood?”

“Seriously?”

“Is Sara the most lovely and talented and rightfully famous soprano in all the German countries?” Mila retorted, “Am I the most dashing, dazzling young ingenue ever, deserving of a place at her side? Are you a great singer when you're not busy getting nervous?”

“I might argue about that last point,” Yuuri commented but nodded in defeat. “Please tell me that a career as a solo singer doesn't make you automatically bossy like that.”

“Nah, I was born that way. Got me places. Hold still.”

Yuuri felt her work, pulling the strings on the small of his back and working up to his middle section, then starting over from the top.

Yuuri gasped.

“Too tight?” Mila asked, pausing in her work.

“Uh. No.” Yuuri took a few breaths. “No, no I am fine.”

“Good, because I am not good at loosening these laces, just so you know.” She tightened again and then Yuuri felt a pull in the middle section of his upper body. “So better yell in time when it's too tight.”

“Uh-huh.” Yuuri nodded.

“And now hold still.” Mila pulled again and Yuuri gasped as tightness closed in on him, seemingly concentrating his body down from any excess it might had held.

It felt actually good.

“I'll leave it at that,” Mila declared while probably tying the lacing. “You're not used to this yet and you still need to sing.”

“Isn't this supposed to _help_ me with that?” Yuuri asked. “You make it sound like it might not.”

“If you're not used to it and lace it too tight, you'll faint. When it's done right you stand upright and focus more on your breathing.” She gave his back a small pat. “All done. I'll get into costume now.”

“Good idea. Thank you.”

Mila grinned. “You owe me and Sara a good bottle of champagne for the lacing lesson.” With that she was out the door, whether to actually get dressed or to drop by at Sara's dressing room, Yuuri was no one to tell and neither to judge.

He looked at himself in the mirror once the door was closed.

Well, his waist was significantly smaller. Not extremely much smaller, but noticeable and the curve from his chest to his waist to his hips was – nice. Yes, nice. So that was why women looked so good even when their arms and faces spoke of several dozen pounds too much. How good that Yuuri had figured out that mystery.

But still, it pinched in his sides and everywhere else as well and the compression and the restriction, while now certainly rather interesting in a good way would very soon be a bother, he just knew it.

And why was he to force himself into this bloody thing anyways?!

“Language, love.”

He didn't even flinch at Viktor's voice, only blinked at him as he came out of the shadow while Yuuri quickly locked the door. “I didn't notice I was speaking out.”

“Not terribly loud, but still.” Viktor smiled, almost indulgently. “I am just here to wish you well. I'll be gone by the moment.” He came closer, reaching out and placing a hand on Yuuri's waist.

Warmth seeped through the thick linen and Yuuri leaned into the touch and into Viktor, meeting him for a kiss.

“Nervous?” Viktor asked, brushing Yuuri's hair aside.

“Not totally. Not yet. Just a bit.” Yuuri let out a deep breath. “For now. Let’s hope I remain so.”

“It's okay to be nervous. If you aren't you won't pay attention to what might go wrong and then _this_ will go wrong.”

“Yeah, that's what disastrous dress rehearsals are for,” Yuuri chuckled. “Our's went over pretty well, though.”

Viktor kissed his cheek, nuzzling him in the process. It tickled and sent the most wonderful shiver down Yuuri’s spine. “Just focus on why it went well and work with that, I guess. That helped me a lot. But then again, you do tend to get very nervous very quickly.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Yuuri sighed.

Their lips met again, Viktor’s fingers brushing Yuuri’s cheeks and then held his face, his body pushing Yuuri’s closer to the wall until his back met the cold, cold, very cold mirror and he opened his eyes again.

Viktor looked at him like a drunkard might look at a tankard of wine, eye wide and dark, face flushed and lips parted and glistening so that Yuuri wanted to kiss them over and over and over again.

His long, sinuous fingers moved over the exposed skin of Yuuri’s throat and neck, over the linen covering his shoulders and then, then over the cage that held him together.

“I must give thanks to Miss Babitch,” Viktor whispered between two kisses that had Yuuri breathless and begging for more kisses and for less breath to beg, “wonderful lacing she did here.” His hands could entirely encircle Yuuri’s waist, probably due to a combination of him being of such slight frame and Viktor possessing such obscenely, wonderfully long fingers. Maybe the tight lacing did a part as well,

“I’ll tell her after the performance,” Yuuri pulled Viktor closer to him and then he was pressed against his dressing table and hitched up so he could sit on it, Viktor’s arms encircling him, fingers moving over his legs, his back, his sides. Even through the thick layers of the corset he could feel the heat of his hands, spreading from there over his skin.

The corset before had not done too much to take Yuuri’s breath away. Viktor, however, sure did and Yuuri wanted nothing more than getting out of the damn thing and feel him closer and directly on him and at the same time the constraints on him made him even more aware of how Viktor’s fingers covered him and tried to dig into his skin and hell. Yuuri’s head went blank for a moment.

“You are so lovely like this,” Viktor breathed the crook of his neck and it made him laugh.

“Just like this?”

“You’re always lovely, always.” Viktor’s hand moved down Yuuri’s stomach - it lurched and for once it was not a case of horrible nerves and more of excitement. “But like this - why haven’t I laced you up sooner?”

“No idea, because there was a performance coming up, maybe, and I was too nervous and was- oh damn.” Yuuri gasped and cocked his hips as Viktor’s hand covered the front of his trousers.

He had been half-hard just from kissing, but apparently now he could easily drop the half part of the fact.

“Now look what you’ve done,” he complained. “Bet you are proud of yourself, right?”

Viktor’s hand moved over his still covered erection and he chuckled, lifting his gaze up to him. “Oh yes, very proud,” he purred, somehow managing to show an incredibly smug smile at the same time as his eye was wide and dark with desire, “but I’d be even prouder if I could give you some relief. Only if you like.”

“Fuck…”

“That, my love, is the general idea, but we might need more time and privacy for this.”

Yuuri pulled his face back up to him and kissed him with enough force that their teeth clashed. Viktor gasped into his mouth with delight while his hands quickly opened the front of Yuuri’s underpants and then grasped his uncovered penis.

Viktor chuckled. “Oh dear, me and my big mouth.” He pressed a last, short and almost obscenely chaste kiss on his lips, then his throat and then dropped to his knees, while his hands spread Yuuri’s legs further apart.

“No noise,” Viktor warned as he pressed another kiss on the length of Yuuri’s erection, “would be a shame if someone heard you and knocked, right?”

Yuuri managed to suppress a whimper to a sharp breath.

He didn’t have as much luck as Viktor’s tongue licked from base to tip.

“Damn,” he hissed and it came out far less annoyed or forceful than he would have liked, “Quit messing with me!”

Viktor chuckled against him and it rose through Yuuri’s body into his throat, vibrating there and escaping him in a whimper. “I’d never dream of messing with you.” His lips now covered the tip of his penis and Yuuri bit his lip to silence himself.

Viktor was indeed not messing around. Yuuri felt the tease of a tongue and the grazing of teeth before he lowered himself down, taking in more of him.

Yuuri gripped the wood of the table tighter, desperately trying to stifle a moan.

And for all his request of silence Viktor seemed very intent on hearing his voice, moving his hands over his legs and digging his nails into the linen that kept him from touching.

Yuuri grabbed one, almost keeling over as Viktor’s teeth moved over him again.

The squeeze he gave was answered.

Moving his head slowly up and down, Viktor took the other of Yuuri’s hands and placed it in his own hair for Yuuri to cling to.

His insides at this point had melted and turned into something tight and concentrated and at the same time seemed to spread out through his whole body, expanding and threatening to burst.

He gripped Viktor’s hair, digging his nails into his scalp and then an arm was holding him at his waist as Viktor sucked hard and sharp.

The heat left Yuuri in a low, breathy groan. His upper body wanted desperately to fall over, but the corset held him in place. So apparently these damned things were in fact good for something.

Only a few moments later he realized that the pressure in his lower body had ceased and that Viktor was slowly pulling back. He placed a last, quick kiss on Yuuri’s cock before coming up to him, steadying him now with both arms.

He was smiling, a mixture of proud, smug and affectionate.

“Better?”, he asked. His breath hit Yuuri’s lips and Yuuri caught a whiff of his own seed.

He leaned in for a kiss. “Worlds… but what about you?” he asked.

“No time for that, dear.” Still, Viktor pressed himself a bit closer and Yuuri could feel his erection against his leg. “You got a performance to give, right?” Another kiss. “You come down afterwards?”

Yuuri chuckled. “I’ll have Plisetsky keep me from hitting the champagne too much.”

“I do hope so. Can’t have you drunk and half passed out again when you come down to me, right?” He ran a hand through Yuuri’s hair. “I’ll listen and then go back downstairs.”

“I hopefully won’t have to stay too long.” Yuuri leaned into another kiss. “Thank you.”

“Always, love. I think you should dress now.” Viktor pressed another kiss on his brow. “Have fun and work hard.” And then he was gone.

Yuuri still felt his arms around him as he cleaned up a bit, washed his face and then changed into the trousers and the frock of his costume.

He was just about finishing his stage make-up when he heard an impatient knock at his door. “Katsuki! Hurry, we got to get ready before Yakov gives his speech!”

“Moment!” Damn, his voice was almost transparent.

Quickly he took a sip of water before he walked to the door and unlocked it.

Plisetsky stared up to him, frowning as always. “Urgh, took you forever!” Then he looked up and down on him. “Well, at least you’re dressed. But wipe that look off your face or your solo debut will be as the sultriest priest to ever wed a couple on stage!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading this and for sticking with "Sing for me" so far. Thank you all so much.


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